


Inbox

by I_dont_write_fanfic



Category: Once Upon A Time - Fandom
Genre: AU, CS AU, Captain Swan - Freeform, F/M, cs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_dont_write_fanfic/pseuds/I_dont_write_fanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the films The Shop Around the Corner and You've Got Mail, this is a CS AU in the modern world. Killian has been exchanging emails with a fascinating, worldly woman for years who he's never met. Emma and Killian are detectives in the same precinct who don't get along. Emma has also been corresponding with a man online for years but doesn't know his name or what he looks like, but when he suggests they meet, worlds begin to collide.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“That girl from last night already text ya?” Will Scarlet padded slowly out of his bedroom, rubbing the tired from his eyes to find his mate, Killian Jones, sitting at his kitchen table smiling at something he was reading on his phone. 

“No, I-- it’s someone else,” Killian tried to wave his hand in attempt to find a better explanation for who this woman was to him. Will continued to ask questions about how Killian slept, if he knew where he was going to get to work at his new job, all while going about his normal morning routine. All through these banal questions, though, Killian couldn’t help but smile at his phone every now and then, rereading what was written to him. His smile was actually so startling that it made Will stop and ask what was the matter with him, as Kilian was more prone to brooding silently over his breakup with Milah.

“It’s just an email from this girl.” Killian shrugged his shoulders, trying to pass it off as an insignificant thing, but Will was having none of it. 

“Mate, no offense, but you haven’t been the cheeriest person recently, so anyone who’s making you look like this I want to know more about.” 

Killian opened his mouth to give a retort, but everything he thought of felt silly, so much so that his cheeks were going red and he instead hid his face in his cereal bowl for the time being. He had just left New York for a promotion in Boston, but he also left his ex-girlfriend, Milah. Everything about the city since their breakup felt ingenuine after they split. Everything around him made him think of her, his apartment they shared, her friend group that he had been ingrained into, favorite delivery places they’d always gotten at 3am. He just couldn’t bear to be in that city anymore now that she wasn’t in his life. Nothing about New York City was his anymore, so when they broke up he was sorely in need of finding a home that was _his_ again. In the interim he was staying on his mate Will’s couch until he found a proper place. He’d stay on his boat but spending too much time on there gave him a similar feeling of loss and discomfort. 

“We’ve been talking for ages now,” he waved his hand, dismissing it as nothing once again, “just sort of...pen pals--”

“Pen pals. Bloody bollocks,” Will reached over and snatched Killian’s phone from him to see what exactly there was to smile so broadly over to find this email open in his inbox:

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

 

_Three emails in one weekend! Aren’t I a lucky girl. Let’s see if I can catch up. You know, after the week and weekend I’ve had, your emails were like a present to myself for getting through it. That and a glass of wine (or two). Is it just that time of year where everything gets ramped up? The fall always seems like the beginning of things, the beginning of the school year is in autumn and that schedule sort of latches onto you from childhood and even after you’ve long since finished school, it still feels like the fall is when everything new starts. Which, of course, makes no sense because the fall is when all the leaves die and the time when things begin in_ nature _is the spring._

 

_You’re probably shaking your head right now thinking I’m nuts for going this in-depth about a season, but it just gives you that feeling that something new is starting. Maybe it’s because I’m waiting to hear about this promotion at work and I’ve just been working so hard towards it and I’m just excited. You know that feeling in your gut that you have when you’re waiting for something, and then there’s finally indication that the waiting is over and your heart sort of skips a beat in excitement? Do you ever get that? That sort of nervous energy of apprehension and anticipation all rolled into one?_

 

_And then sometimes all this anticipation just makes you start to feel sick, so I finally opened your email as a treat and it just made everything settle down around me again. So thanks for the dose of sanity and keep ‘em coming because I don’t know how I’d get through the day without them. (no pressure)_

_\--Your Friend_

 

Once Will finished reading the email aloud to a very red Killian, he simply went silent, gingerly placing the phone back on the table and sliding it over to Killian’s seat. After a long moment of silence he met Killian’s eye,

“You’re in deep, aren’t ya, mate?” 

Despite his deeply flushed face, he was honest when he said it was simply a correspondence with a person with similar interests who just happens to be of the opposite sex. 

“Was this going on when you were with Milah?” Killian furrowed his brow in thought. Admittedly he had to be more discreet about emailing while he was with Milah, but it never really felt like infidelity.

“We just talk about books and movies and travel. It’s nothing sexual or romantic, it’s just a chat!” Killian threw his hands up defensively, trying to convince both Will and part of himself that there was nothing more to this relationship with ‘swanprincess’ than friendly conversation. Part of him felt guilty conversing with this other woman while so in love with Milah, but he could never place the reason behind those feelings of guilt. He met swanprincess during his brief stint on a dating site before meeting Milah and closing his account. Now that he’s [trying to] move on, it’s like suddenly discovering this extra room you had in your house all this time and you only found it just now. And he’s somewhat overwhelmed with the opportunities this room has presented, because he can’t decides what he wants to do with it. He shook his head for a moment as if to rid the thoughts of comparing this female companion as a metaphorical room and went to pour himself another cup of coffee. It was far too early to be contemplating his relationship with swanprincess. He often called her ‘princess’ in their emails but wasn’t so inclined to share this intimate detail with his friend, Will. 

Will was silent as his finished his breakfast and put the dishes in the sink. As he walked past Killian to get his coat he exclaimed,,

“Just a chat!” smacking Killian across the top of his head, “I know you, and you never ‘just chat’ with a woman.”

This very accurate fact about Killian rendered him utterly speechless. Had he ever hit on her, really? No, because it wasn’t about that. He didn’t have a face or a name, just a writing style, life stories, and opinions to exchange. Swanprincess was more an entity or a faceless being like the people in your dreams who are just sort of indistinguishable blobs in the scope of your awareness who you just _know_ is that person. Without a body or a real live person to picture in his mind, she never crossed over into the realm of a sexual relationship. There were no physical details to assign to her person in his mind, she just simply _was_. Killian always thought if they ever actually met in person, in real life, it would just ruin the illusion he had built up of her in his mind. He was afraid of being let down by reality but perhaps even more scared for her to be just as perfect as he had imagined. 

“You better fookin’ meet this woman or I will,” Will yelled over his shoulder as he exited the apartment. The door slammed shut quite loudly at the end of his exclamation. 

So much for ‘good luck on your first day.’

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

Today was supposed to be _the_ day. Today she was getting promoted from detective to sergeant, so she came in early, got that extra sugary latte, a dozen donuts for the office, and wore her lucky red leather jacket. It was fall in Boston and the air was already crisp like you could smell the leaves starting to change color. 

Right as she was walking into the break room to set down the donuts, someone was already in there making coffee. It was well before anyone normally came into the office and this guy didn’t look like any officer she knew in her precinct. He had dark hair all mussed up and a slim build, outlined very well by black jeans and a tailored black leather jacket. Perhaps he had just been released from the drunk tank and got lost on his way out. He heard her as she came in and put the donuts on the table, and when he turned to look at who was there he gave this warm smile with a twinkle in his ocean blue eyes that would’ve knocked her over if she hadn’t already had so much caffeine that morning. He just smiled and looked her over slowly, top to bottom, and she heard him mutter to himself,

“Would’ve transferred precincts sooner had I known their detectives looked like that.” Emma raised her brow at the comment he wasn’t entirely trying to hide. 

“Can I help you?” Emma asked, hands on her hips in confusion as to who this guy thought he was just hanging around a Boston PD break room at 7am making coffee like he’d been working there for years.

“No, I think I’ve got it covered, thanks,” he said over his shoulder as the coffee dripped into the pot at a steady pace. 

_Yeah, that’s not what I meant, buddy_. 

“Are you here to see one of the detectives? It’s a bit early for anyone to be here right now…” He was pouring the coffee into a cup and stirring in sugar, but then he turned around with his fresh cup and took a sip. His nose scrunched up in reaction to his coffee, meaning it was either too hot, or terrible. Emma raised an eyebrow at him and he returned the look, smiling at her behind the coffee cup hovering around his mouth. 

“It’s my first day at this precinct, so I thought I’d come in a bit early, get the lay of the land,” he finally gave her some information before sitting down at the table with the donuts and carefully picking out the only glazed chocolate one. _She_ was going to eat that one, dammit. “Thanks for the donut.” He set his coffee down and held out his hand, “Sergeant Jones,” he mumbled between chewing the donut before swallowing and adding, “Killian Jones.”

If her mouth wasn’t agape before it was now.

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_I don’t believe I’ve ever been the highlight of someone’s day. After a full day of routine, work, friends, roommates, social life, work life, just the whole bloody grind of it all, it helps to talk to someone who’s not part of that whole routine and life. Talking to you is like leaving all the rest of the junk behind and escaping to this other world where it’s just you and me talking. And I get that, too. Your emails are what keep me sane in the real world. It’s like hearing from you aligns me straight again to go through the whole routine the next day. Not that my friends lack anything or that you have something they can’t give me, but perhaps it’s the anonymity of it all between you and me that allows us to be more candid and open. You’d think it’d be the opposite, maybe, not wanting to share personal stories with a person whose real name you don’t even know. All I know is, this correspondence gives me vitality, and surely that’s not pathetic but rather empowering._

_your friend  x_

 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

She stormed right into the captain’s office the moment he arrived, hands clenched into fists and fuming.

“Emma if this is about the promotion--” he started but was cut off by Emma, clearly ready with a speech.

“What the hell, dad?! That was _my_ job, you practically said so yourself!” she crossed her arms defensively, waiting for him to defy her. 

“I told you it wasn’t a sure thing. You know we were interviewing other people for the job, and Jones had a recommendation from the police chief herself--” 

“Yeah I’ll bet he did,” Emma muttered under her breath. She couldn’t deny that he was attractive and could reasonably charm his way into a recommendation from nearly any woman on the planet for a job. The police chief may be rigid at times, but not beyond being wooed by a guy like Killian Jones. Emma, however, could see past his charms and know that he is probably nothing but a pretty face with no real skills. 

“He caught the Crocodile, Emma, put him behind bars. I couldn’t _not_ hire him on. It’s just politics, honey, you understand,” her father was trying to reason with her, saying all logical things and explanations, but she couldn’t hear it right now. She was still furious that this guy just saunters into her precinct like he owns the place, takes _her_ job, _her_ donut, _her_ desk?!

She had turned the corner out of her dad’s office, still relatively fuming, only to find a one Killian Jones sitting in her seat at her desk. He was just about finished polishing off her donut as well. _Bastard_. She put on a fake smile and began her sentence with a mild chuckle,

“Aha, um, can I help you, _Sergeant_?” somehow the end of her question came out through gritted teeth, still smiling, though. Naturally, his feet were resting on her desk and he was leaning back in the chair like he was ready to close his eyes for a quick nap _at her desk_. 

He nearly jumped out of his seat at the sound of her voice, removing his feet from the desk and sitting up in the chair properly, spinning the chair around to face her with a slightly guilty look on his face, which his promptly covered with a charming smile. 

The _smile_ was charming, he wasn’t. Just to make things clear.

“There you are, Swan! I was hoping to review the Regina Mills case with you. The captain told me you were lead detective on the case and thought I could provide some insight, a new angle, perhaps,” at the suggestion that he could provide insight, he scratched behind his ear and looked down at the floor as if embarrassed that he would even suggest he could do her job better than she could. He didn’t say it with confidence but with uncertainty, but perhaps he was just being humble, trying to get on her good side. 

“The case file is right on my desk, under where your feet just were,” she pointed out the rather thick folder on her desk and he gingerly picked it up to flip through, “Just don’t spill anything on it.” He looked up at her and smiled like a kid in a candy store and this was the most treasured thing he had ever seen. She hadn’t seen someone look at a case file like that since...she couldn’t place it but there was something familiar about that look that made her stomach churn in nostalgia. She blinked quickly a few times and crossed her arms, ridding her of any warm fuzzy feelings his face gave her and fixed a scowl on her own order to push him away from her desk. 

He didn’t even look up at her, but continued to flip through the case file in wonder, nose buried in the pages of the thick folder as he got up and walked away. 

“We’ll go over this together later, Swan! Just give me a day to go over the details!” he shouted as he walked towards wherever his new desk was. He didn’t have to look back to make sure Emma heard him as he likely heard her bang her knee against her desk and curse under her breath. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

_It IS empowering. I have the power to deny you sanity. Imagine the possibilities. I’m not sure a woman has ever had such power over a man. Though we’re not sure you even are entirely sane if you just spent an entire week on a boat alone up the eastern coast of the country, but I’ll leave that to the professionals. How is the Atlantic? I haven’t been down to the docks in a while._

_\--Your Friend (not your psychiatrist)_

 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

“Insufferable! The man is absolutely insufferable!” she walked through her apartment door ready to rant to Ruby or Elsa or anyone who was available to listen. When she reached the living room, Ruby was watching TV and promptly paused it to look over her shoulder at Emma in sympathy. Ever since she started her new job in a different precinct, she’d had a _lot_ of days like this. “It’s like his whole purpose in life is to destroy mine,” Emma continued as she proceeded to the kitchen to pour herself a hefty glass of wine, pouring one for Ruby as well before plopping down on the couch defeatedly. 

“Who is it this time?” Ruby asked, accepting the glass of wine from Emma and turning to face her attention to today’s problem. Emma sighed heavily before answering,

“Sergeant Killian Jones.” Ruby tipped her glass in Emma’s direction as if to toast to this man’s eventual destruction before Emma swallowed the contents of the glass in one go. 

Emma’s phone buzzed and she glanced at the screen to see who it was, trying to hide the flush that crept up on her cheeks when she saw the email address flash on the screen but Ruby caught her.

“Is it Roger?!’ Ruby kicked at Emma excitedly across the couch as Emma tried her hardest not to smile. 

They met on a dating website, something Ruby and Elsa signed her up for after one too many one night stands and drunken threats of making a profile for her but never enacting it til now. Of course this was years ago right out of college that they signed her up. She was on for about a week before deactivating the damned thing due to too many creepers, but she had managed to strike up a conversation with one guy. They’d exchanged emails but not many other personal details, because it didn’t seem important. They just became pen pals, exchanging long emails and stories about their lives. This was back before texting wasn’t a big thing.  She didn’t need pictures of what he looked like or how much he makes in a year, how often he drinks, because they never ran out of things to talk about. For years it was like this: an email or two a day back and forth to each other. No memes or YouTube links shared on Facebook but real conversations about the trips they planned that they’d never get a chance to go on, what movies made them cry every time or that book they have multiple copies of to give their friends to read. It was neverending and easy and, well, perfect. She didn’t have to make any effort except to be herself. It’s not like he could judge her behind a faceless username on the Internet, and if he did, she could just delete his emails and be done with him. She couldn’t figure out what it was about him that kept her interested all this time. 

“His name’s not Roger, it’s just part of his username, thejollyroger” Emma mumbled the end of her sentence, feigning indifference. 

“What is that? Some euphemism for his dick?” Emma’s mouth fell agape as she went to take a sip of wine. Honestly she had never even thought about him sexually before. 

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s the name of his boat,” Emma got up to get more wine, continuously trying to hide her reactions from Ruby, because she was always good at reading just what Emma was feeling when it came to Emma and guys (which was usually nothing). 

“He has a boat? Is he loaded?” Ruby turned to her from the couch to watch her in the kitchen, all too aware of Emma’s evasive maneuvers at this point in their friendship. Ruby was also likely to ask if he had a good looking friend or brother who was also loaded, so they could double-date, which was exactly the reason Emma did not want to tell her the following detail,

“I think it was his brother’s or they share it,” she looked up to read the expected reaction from Ruby, who was, indeed, on the verge of asking if said brother was single, “Don’t. We don’t talk about his brother, I’m not setting you up with his brother, no to the brother.” 

“Wait a minute... _Sergeant_ Killian jones? Someone made sergeant over you?! What the hell? How did that happen?!”

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_The Atlantic is bloody freezing is what it is. Never fell in, though, thankfully. I’m not_ **_that_ ** _bad of a sailor. You know you could always visit the fair ocean yourself as you do live in a city on the water, no? (I know you’ve never explicitly declared you live in Boston, but I can be quite perceptive) Forgive me if this is too forward, but now that I’m in the [allegedly] same city as you and I find myself situated here for what seems like a permanent period of time, would you want to finally give meeting in the third dimension a try?_

_If not, I’m sure the Atlantic won’t be too heartbroken over it._

_your friend x_

 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

“So you guys haven’t even exchanged like... _other_ pics?”

“Ruby!” Elsa yelped from the kitchen and Emma immediately went red and shook her head before she took a swig of her beer. She couldn’t believe she was thinking about meeting him, but at the same time, she can’t quite believe they _haven’t_ met after this many years. 

“Not one dick pic? Guys always send unsolicited dick pics. It’s in their nature,” Ruby reasoned with a shrug. Emma didn’t doubt this, but they didn’t tend to talk about themes of a sexual nature in their emails. It was always about nothing but everything, any topic on his or her mind, their hobbies, something that happened that day, a story, never about sex, and rarely about relationships. 

“Is he even single still, Emma? Did you ever ask him?” Elsa nudged Emma out of her thought process and looked up at them. He never talked about a woman or anyone he was with. 

“This cafe meetup, is it a date? What if he’s _married_?” Ruby added to the mounting pressure and nervous energy that made her stomach flip and palms sweat. They weren’t wrong, all these possibilities were entirely likely and they never really _defined_ whatever it is that this meeting was besides...a meeting of two people for the first time. What else could one call that? A blind date? Elsa must have noticed the panicked look on Emma’s face, because she changed the subject to the guy Ruby was seeing, some doctor. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

It had been a week with Sgt. Jones as her superior, and after the first day of mishaps, things had been running relatively smoothly, but not great. He slipped into the conference room late that morning, standing in the back of the room next to Emma by the door. The meeting had started 10 minutes ago. He shot her his trademark dazzling smile and she returned it with a glare and brief eyeroll at his tardiness. _Typical_. Not that anything from him could be typical at this point, because it had only been a week of working with him, but anything negative he did, she decided was his _typical_ behaviour. He was, however, holding two cups of coffee. He offered one of the cups to Emma and leaned in towards her to whisper in her ear,

“You know that top you wore yesterday, Swan? White with blue dots?” She could feel his warm breath puff against her ear and made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She also couldn’t stop the flush from spreading up her cheeks and across her chest. What was he doing noticing her tops? She quickly glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, glaring ever so slightly,

“Actually it was blue with white pockets, but it’s a good thing you don’t have to remember small details like that as a detective or anything,” she snapped back. If he was going to mock her, she was going to insult him right back. 

“It would be best if you didn’t wear that one again,” she could practically hear him gulping before further explaining, “some of the staff found it distracting.” 

“Distracting?!” Emma hissed back at him, taking a slight step away from him so they wouldn’t be standing so close together, but also so he wasn’t within hitting distance. She glanced toward the front of the room to be sure the detective holding the meeting wasn’t disturbed by their chatter, “You’re dictating my wardrobe now, Sergeant? Would you like me to text you pictures each morning of what I intend to wear that day from now on, then? Or, or perhaps I’ll send you swatches of approved fabrics I’m allowed to wear from now on, fill up your mailbox with something other than Playboys!” He picked the perfect time to confront her about this, because she couldn’t yell at him or make too much of a fuss while a meeting was going on in front of them.

“It’s just not the most appropriate of dress for a detective, Swan--” He had a white-knuckled grip on his coffee cup, clearly trying to maintain his cool.

“Since when do you dictate what I can wear to work. Oh, that’s right, you do work _above_ me now, since you took my job, you’re my _superior_. The _nerve_ you have to tell me what to wear to work I--”

“Swan, I was just following through orders-- something your father found to be an uncomfortable topic for him. He didn’t quite know how to tell his daughter to stop wearing see-through shirts to work, because he didn’t want to see her _bra_ , so he asked me to talk to you.”The shirts weren’t _see-through_ , they were just on the verge of work-inappropriate, but it had been so hot yesterday that she opted out of wearing an undershirt. She thought no one would particularly notice. It was light blue chiffon, not exactly transparent. 

“I like the confidence, Swan. Personally, I’m fine with seeing your bra through your shirt, in fact, I welcome it.” It was at this point that Emma planted her hand against his chest and shoved him away from her with great deal of force, causing the coffees in his hand to splash on his shirt, which she caught a glimpse of as she walked out of the conference room. 

 

Emma: do you remember what I wore yesterday to work?

**Ruby: that blue top??**

Emma: yea do you think that’s ok for meeting him?

**Ruby: YES with black bra :P**

**Ruby: and that new necklace Elsa gave you**

**Ruby: and maybe that leather skirt in case you guys end up doing it in the cafe bathroom**

Emma: we’re dressing me not you thanks xx

 

A few minutes after the incident in the conference room, Killian greeted her at her desk, placing one of the coffees on top of her paperwork, forcing her to acknowledge his presence. The cup left a light brown ring on the police report she had been reading, but it wasn’t the first stain on the documents. She had been working the Regina Mills case for two years now and had most of the contents of its file memorized. Every time a new piece of information came in regarding Mills’ activities, she liked to look over everything again and see how the new bit fit into the puzzle of this case. 

Killian leaned over to peer at something on her desk, reading over her shoulder,

“Oh, I like the style of your friend Ruby,” She could practically hear the mocking grin on his face as she snatched her phone off her desk and pressed the lock button. 

“That’s none of your business! And Ruby is dating someone so back off!” Emma slammed her phone face down on her desk so he could no longer peek at her notifications and dropped her head into her hands and rubbing her eyes after letting out a deep sigh.

“That new scrap of info didn’t give you much, did it?” Killian tilted his head in concern, trying to figure out a way to help.

“No it didn’t!” Emma snapped, “and your gloating grin isn’t helping.” She made a shooing motion with her hand to get him to leave her alone, but he simply sat on the edge of her desk, grabbing her coffee cup and pulling it towards him. Emma smelled a whiff of rum and picked her head up to see where it was coming from. Killian glanced around them, checking if anyone was watching, 

“Not a gloating grin but _concern_ for a fellow detective, Swan....perhaps in need of a little...” he proceeded to uncork a flask from his jacket and pour some of its content into her coffee before nudging the cup back in her direction, “inspiration?” 

“Drinking at 9am help you catch the Crocodile?” Not only did he hit on her, but he encouraged day-drinking at work. What made her dad think he was more suitable for the job than her?

“Give it a try,” he shrugged, standing up from her desk and sauntering off to whatever work he had. 

 

It wasn’t until an hour before her shift ended that an emergency meeting was called for everyone to stay late. _Tonight_. A piece of evidence had been misplaced and urgently needed to be found. It was likely still in the evidence locker, just put back in the wrong place, but it always took a long time to sort through everything in that locker. 

“Dammit,” Emma whispered under her breath at the news. She really didn’t want to miss finally meeting thejollyroger. She just _couldn’t_. If she backed out last minute, he’d think she’s ditching him and doesn’t really want to meet him, and then they might never get another chance again. Her heart ached at the thought of missing this opportunity. She hadn’t realized quite how much she had been looking forward to this until there was a possibility of it not happening. 

“I know, I’ve got a date tonight, too,” the familiar lilt of Killian’s voice rasped into her ear and she swatted at him like a fly buzzing around her ear. 

“Stop trying to relate to me, Jones,” she hissed at him, distancing herself from him, looking for _anyone_ else to talk to about this. 

“Jealous?” he quirked his eyebrow at her and his tongue swiped across his lips attracting her gaze for a brief moment. 

“Why would I be jealous when I have my own date tonight?” Emma crossed her arms and squared off with him, “With someone I actually care about, whereas your idea of a date probably doesn’t consist of much outside the four walls of your bedroom,” Emma snapped back defensively. She had no interest in discussing her personal life with the man she loathed. Let alone talking about what _he_ does on a date. 

“Oh, but I’m always a gentleman, Swan,” he winked at her and headed towards her father’s office, likely trying to get out early from this evidence locker situation. Emma was about to do the same thing, and if Killian beat her to it, she’d be stuck in the office all night. Emma practically ran after the sergeant, pulling at his sleeve right at the entrance of her father’s office. Luckily, her father was already busy talking on the phone and didn’t notice her and Killian at the door. She managed to push Killian to the side so she talk to him out of her father’s sight. 

“Pulling me into a dark corner, Swan? And so close to your father! Do you have a thing for getting caught?” Killian jested at her with a tilt of his head, nodding his chin in the direction of her lips, which was exactly where his eyes were fixed. 

“Thank you, Sergeant, for treating me the same as any of your other co-workers, and not treating me differently because I’m a woman, really, I appreciate it,” Emma managed to say this entirely without sarcasm but rather with a threatening tone, “And your little inspiration this morning helped me out a lot, actually.” Killian appeared to be slightly stunned by her sudden change in demeanor towards him and proceeded cautiously,

“I’m glad to help out a fellow detective,” he tilted his head slightly as if bowing towards her. 

“I think I could learn a lot from you if we continue working together. I’d really love to learn more about your process and how you tracked down The Crocodile. Perhaps we could start tomorrow?” Emma’s tone changed to light and casual, without any edge that it usually had when interacting with Killian. He looked rather confused by this, making her smile with success. 

“Of course...Detective Swan,” he cleared his throat as a fellow officer passed them, “Absolutely.” 

“Great!” Emma clapped him on the shoulder, “So you think I could maybe slip out early, skip the evidence inventory, because of this event I’ve got tonight. Surely they don’t need _all_ of us--”

“Swan you don’t get to go on your date unless I can go on mine. But well done, you,” his finger booped her on the nose with his index finger so quickly she couldn’t even be sure he actually touched her,  “being nice to me for a whole minute _has_ to be a record for you, love” At this, Killian spun on his heel back toward the captain’s office to be excused early, sauntering down the hall with his familiar swagger that gave him an air of someone who owned the world. 

Emma quickly followed Killian into the captain’s office, arriving moments after Killian asked to duck out early. 

“Oh, Emma, Killian here was just wondering if you’d be able to get by without him tonight. Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?” her father asked, clapping Killian on the back. The man could do no wrong in her father’s eyes. How did he manage that image? 

“Well the task tonight might be so simple, it doesn’t require either of us to be here, don’t you think, Jones?” Killian shifted his eyes between Emma and the captain, quickly realizing how much power he currently had over her and began to open his mouth with an mischievous look on his face. Emma elbowed him in the ribs before he started speaking while shooting daggers out of her eyes, sensing he was going to say something most unhelpful to her. He abruptly cleared his throat, rubbing the spot she elbowed him, and agreeing that the precinct shouldn’t require either of them tonight. 

“Well then, have a good evening, whatever it is you two have planned,” her father was looking back and forth between them suspiciously and smiling at his superb matchmaking skills. Emma’s mother will be proud. 

“ _Separate_ plans,” Emma made clear to them both she had no desire to spend an evening with Killian Jones unless forced to do so by work. Killian, of course, winked at her like he was hiding some secret together from her father. _You wish, pal_. 


	2. (2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> swanprincess + thejollyroger have their first meeting at a cafe tonight. The date does not go according to plan. Meanwhile, Killian strives to learn more about Emma Swan and get on her good side. He's not so great at it.

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

  _I seem to be incapable of dishing out a good comeback right in the moment. I always think of them 10 minutes later, after the moment is gone and the comeback is useless. I’m good at thinking on my feet just not when it comes to verbally slapping someone in the face. Just to be able to see someone’s face when you say that perfect comeback right there in the moment would be absolute gold. Maybe I have bad comedic timing. Bad insult timing? What’s the name for that?_

\--Your Friend

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_Oh, princess, you’re just too kind to ever deliver a truly painful line. That’s what I think. I think you can only really say the perfect thing at the right time if you really really mean it. You have to really hate someone to get the timing right to throw it in their face, because you’ve practiced it so many times in your head. Usually it involves preparation, is all I’m saying._

_your friend x_

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

  _ok, boy scout, i’ll definitely try to be more prepared from now on *salutes*_

 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

“Alright, you ready?” Killian asked Will anxiously. He asked Will to come with him to the cafe to meet swanprincess because he was so nervous he didn’t think he could keep it together on his own. Of course he didn’t say this to Will, because he wanted to just see what she looked like. 

“Am _I_ ready? Shouldn’t I be asking you that, mate? Your damn near shaking in your boots!” They were about a block from the cafe and Killian was indeed shaking, and not from the brisk air outside. He rubbed his palms together nervously, pretending it was to warm up his hands, but really it was because he just couldn’t stop moving. 

“I just-- she’s just--” Killian Jones had never been this truly flustered in his entire life, “she’s this perfect image in my mind, and until I meet her, she’s just going to be the most perfect person I could ever imagine. In spirit and soul, she’s bloody gorgeous, so if she turns out to be anyone even _remotely_ attractive-- hell, if she turns out to be female of similar age to me who breathes and has a heartbeat, I might just propose on the fucking spot.” Killian was starting to have trouble breathing himself, now, as they approached the door of the cafe. He walked up to the door, determined to go right in, but upon reaching the doorknob, he spun around and walked back away from it. 

“I can’t do it. You look,” he spoke very quickly, shoving Will in the direction of the door, “just look for a book with, erm, a red rose on top of it.” He felt his ears turn pink at the mention of their cheesy meeting circumstances. 

“Alright, alright…” Will leaned over the side window of the cafe, looking in on the seated patrons. Killian’s heart was racing in his chest with anticipation, apprehension, and nervous excitement. He couldn’t stand not looking but at the same time, the reality of meeting this person who had grown to be such an important connection in his life made him want to turn around and run in the opposite direction. It was bloody terrifying now that it was actually _happening_. 

“Well this woman is a knockout, mate,” Will turned to him with raised eyebrows and Killian nearly fell over in shock. He knew it. He bloody _knew_ she was going to be gorgeous. “But no book or nothing. It’s not her.” 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Will? Don’t--”

“We have a book sighting!” Will interrupted him and raised a fist in the air, “Book, yeah...flower, yeah…”

“And?”

“Well, there’s a waitress in the way I can’t-- okay the waitress is moving...moving...I see blond…” Will was narrating the scene in front of him while Killian was have a near embolism at the anticipation. His chest felt tight and his heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. He was taking deep breaths and had his hands folded behind his head. Luckily it was a rather quiet street, so no one was witnessing him during this pinnacle moment in his life. 

“Well, mate, she’s beautiful,” Will took a step back in contemplation, studying the woman’s features for a moment, “actually...she looks at bit like your partner, Swan” Will glanced in Killian’s direction to gauge his reaction to the mention of Emma Swan. Killian had showed Will a picture from the Boston PD website after his first day, trying to figure out why a woman so beautiful could hate him so much. It drove him mad, not being able to woo someone over. 

“ _Emma_ Swan?” Killian’s jaw dropped open and he brought his hand over his mouth. 

“Aye, her. Didn’t you say you liked her?” Killian’s hand dragged down over his mouth and beard, trying to get ahold of the thoughts going through his head.

“Maybe if she wasn’t yelling at me all the time, I’d like her fine, but what does she matter?” He was twisting his scarf in his hands, now, and felt like he had enough nervous energy in him to rip the piece of fabric apart.. 

“Well if you don’t like Emma Swan, you’re not gonna like this girl...” Will had a grimace on his face as the bearer of bad news in the wake of receiving some serious backlash.

“Well, why not?!” He pulled at the ends of his scarf harder, wishing to hear a satisfying ripping sound, but didn’t. 

“Because the girl with the book and the flower _is_ Emma Swan, man,” Will quickly backed away from the window as Killian hurried toward it to verify for himself. Sure enough, Emma Swan was seated in her blue chiffon shirt from yesterday, nervously tapping her fingers on the hardcover of the book on the table, causing the single red rose to shake ever so slightly from the movement. 

“Fucking hell, it’s her,” he declared under his breath, scarcely able to believe that this woman he’s gotten to know so well, who knows some of the darker things about him, the more painful things he’s never had the courage to discuss with someone whose reaction he could see, was Emma bloody Swan. While he was mentally reviewing everything they’ve ever said to each other via email, Will was asking if he was going to go inside the cafe. 

“I can’t do that. She’ll likely knee me in the balls, man, you don’t know this girl-- woman!” he automatically corrected himself calling her a girl, knowing full well she was anything but, “No, I can’t go in, can I?” He ran the possible scenarios in his head quickly, wondering if this outcome had ever occurred to him. He took a deep breath,

“Fuck,” he exhaled, realizing his body had decided to make him go inside, moving independently from his mind, which was very much against the idea, and before he knew it he was standing inside the cafe, telling the waitress he was meeting someone who was already here. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

She checked her watch again to see it was 8:29pm. Okay, so he wasn’t late yet, she was just early, fine. A man approached her and she smiled, thinking it was _him_ ,

“Do you mind if we take this chair?” the stranger asked, pulling the chair away from the table.

“Yes, I do mind! I’m expecting someone any minute,” she tried not to shout or jump out of her seat to pull the chair back to her table but she threw her arms out and was half standing-half hovering over her seat until the stranger returned the chair. She was jumpy and nervous, it wasn’t like her to be so unsure of herself, of this situation. 

“Good old fashioned blind date, huh?” the waiter had returned, asking if she wanted a refill on her cocoa that had been sitting there nearly full for the past 10 minutes. She gave the waiter a forced smile, not wanting to discuss her personal life with the man. Why do waiters always try to make idle chitchat? She wanted to email thejollyroger. _Don’t email him_. 

“Ever afraid the guy came in, took one look at you, and left?” She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but she wanted to punch him in the face for even suggesting the idea. 

“What a nice thought,” she replied through the forced smile, cheek muscles beginning to strain from holding her face that way for so long. 

“Not that it could ever happen to a woman as beautiful as you,” the waiter tried to recover, “Hey, if he doesn’t show up, I’ll sit down with you for a while, if you’d like.” Emma managed to suppress the alarmed look on her face enough to ask for a muffin just to make him leave her alone. 

At the sound of the cafe door opening, Emma looked up expectantly, attention fixed on the man coming through the door, hoping it was _him_. 

_shit shit shit shit shit shit! What is Killian fucking Jones doing here?!_  

Emma picked up her menu and opened it to cover as much of herself as she could as Killian walked into the cafe. While picking up the menu with one hand, she swiped the flower and book from the table into her lap, in order to remove as much material for him to mock her for as possible. 

_Fuck fuck fuck don’t notice me please don’t notice me don’t don’t do--_

“Swan?” She could hear the amusement in his voice and could envision the shit-eating grin he probably had slapped onto his face. She reluctantly lowered the menu very slowly, cringing already. 

“What are the chances!” He opened his arms, smiling widely as if physically embracing the situation. 

“Did you follow me here or something?” She was slouching in her chair, trying to cover the flower and book with her napkin. 

“No, no I’m meeting someone,” he looked around quickly as if searching for this ‘other’ person he was meeting, “Actually, do you mind if I join you while we wait?” He asked while continuing to scan the cafe, knowing if he met her eye he’d turn redder than a tomato. Why was he still nervous? And around _Swan_ of all people. It’s like she had an entirely new identity, now that he knew who she was. 

“I do mind! If you’ll recall, I’m waiting for someone,” Emma eyed the empty chair once again, willing her date to appear before them and save her from this hellish situation. 

“Oh right, the _date_ ,” Killian leaned over to look under the table, smiling to himself, “decided against the leather skirt, per Ruby’s suggestion? Don’t like him _that_ much?” He knew she’d be outraged at him again, but he couldn’t help pushing her buttons. It was so easy and it put his own anxiety at ease, resuming their combative work relationship rather than whatever their relationship was via the internet. Just as Emma prepared to shout out a string of expletives and unfortunate nicknames at him, the cafe door opened once again, causing her to divert her attention. She craned her neck around Killian to see who came into the cafe now, but it was just an elderly couple, causing her to slump back down in her chair and pout. 

“You think he maybe came in, saw you, and left?” He didn’t know what made him say it, but it came out of his mouth faster than he could think against saying it. 

“He wouldn’t do that,” she was speaking through gritted teeth again and Killian couldn’t help but smile at the faith she had in him-- in virtual him, not coworker him.

“I meant it as an ‘intimidated by your beauty’ way, Swan. I didn’t intend it as an insult.” Killian leaned over to look in her lap, trying to figure out what book she had decided to bring with her. 

“You’re reading _Princess Bride_?” his eyebrows raised in question as she tried to hide the title of the book once again, pulling the hardcover against her chest. He almost added ‘again’ to his question before remembering he’s not supposed to know it’s her favorite book, that she reads it at least once a year and even got a tattoo because of it. 

‘What about it?” 

“Nothing, I just didn’t peg you as a lover of fairy tales, is all,” he was flustered now and scratched behind his ear nervously.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Sergeant.” She was speaking through gritted teeth again, clearly interested in causing him bodily harm if he didn’t watch himself. In spite of this, he leaned over the table to get eye to eye with her and lowered his voice to that serious tone he usually reserved for notifying families a loved one had passed away,

“There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Emma,” his forearm was resting on the table so he could lean in closer, their faces only a foot from each other, “There are probably _many_ things we don’t know about each other. You know, Swan, if you bothered to scratch the surface of things and actually got to know who I am underneath, you might like what you find.” His sincerity hit her like a punch in the gut and the kindness in his eyes seared into her soul that the only reasonable response that came to her was to fight back.

“Killian Jones, if I ever looked any further beyond your polished, shiny surface, I’d find a hollow, empty shell of a man who gets by in life on his charm and good looks and doesn’t care about anyone but himself,” the words fell so swiftly from her mouth that it surprised even her. She felt almost guilty after saying so and felt a slight flush spread across her cheeks as her mouth fell open in shock. She looked almost triumphant as she covered her mouth and blushed further, meeting his eye very quickly before speaking again, 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where that came from,” her hands began idly playing with the corner of her book, bending the pages back and forth.

“That’s alright, love, you’ve been wanting to say something like that since you’ve met me, I imagine. It was quite a lovely mixture between poetry and-- and meanness” he held one of his hands out a few feet above the table and swept it across the air as if smoothing an invisible wrinkle in the air. Emma stopped playing with the edge of her book. 

“Meanness? You want to talk to me about meanness--”

“Swan, I’m just trying to pay you a compliment. So infrequently are we presented with the perfect line at the perfect moment. You saw the chance and you took it. I applaud you.”Part of him was actually quite proud she pulled it off after so recently having admitted her inability to do so. It meant she thought about him a lot in various scenarios in her head, and whether those were good or bad, she had prepared for it like he told her to. 

After a moment he noticed he was hovering over the seat opposite her and chose to sit down in it firmly, taking up the red rose from the table and examining it.

“A red rose, Swan?” he smiled at her mischievously, “A single red rose promising everlasting, unwithering love, undying devotion,” he met her eye seriously before pointing at her with the rose, “A red rose speaks volumes, love. Was it your idea or his?” He popped the stem of the rose between his teeth and rose his eyebrow at her, twisting the rose about in his mouth. She reached out to try to snatch the flower from him, but he batted her hand away. 

The sound of the front door opening once again drew their attention towards it, looking to see two women walk through chatting animatedly. When Killian turned back around, he saw Emma’s spirits wilt just a little further. 

“Please leave,” Emma said in a small, defeated voice he’d never heard before, “Please just go have your date or whatever it is you came here for.” At the end of her request she looked up with the saddest eyes, making him wish he could reassure her, tell her she wasn’t stood up, but he simply raised both his hands as he stood up from the table. He watched as her posture straightened at his leaving, her body language perking up and resetting now that he was vacating his position at the table. 

“Thank you,” she whispered and she watched him walk past her table only to be set off once again as he sat down in the chair directly behind her. 

“Cheers, have a lovely night,” she heard him say to the couple who had just made the table behind her available for him to continue torturing her. Of course he can be nice to strangers but not her. She heard him sigh and lean back in his chair, the back of his head nearly touching hers. She could feel how close she was like when someone comes up behind you and you just _feel_ them there. She wanted to pull away, sit forward so he wasn’t so _close_ , but she didn’t. The cafe door opened again, letting the brisk air of the fall evening rush in with the new patron. 

“Are you going to be mean to him, too, Swan?” he asked behind her. She felt him turn his head to look over his shoulder but she continued to sit there silently, moping about the lack of thejollyroger’s appearance. 

“Are you purposely trying to ruin my night?” She turned around in her chair and crossed her arms, absolutely furious that he was here to witness her being stood up. It just made everything doubly awful, because then he’d continue to mock her tomorrow and onwards and she’d never be able to forget it, forget the crushing blow of being stood up by someone you actually care about. “Do you hate me that much?”

“I don’t hate you.” His ocean blue eyes softened, eyebrows furrowed together in sympathy for her sorrow and it was the first time she really noticed just how _blue_ his eyes were. Or were they blue-green? More...cerulean in this light, and for a moment she forgot what she was mad at him about. 

“Oh, right so I suppose you love me,” her snap back made one corner of his mouth curve upward, making a dimple in the side of his cheek. 

“I-- I don’t love you. What have you done to make me love you?” Definitely not exchanging emails for months on end, definitely not being able to talk to her about anything, definitely not being the most perfect, beautiful soul he’s ever come across in his life. 

“I don’t want you to love me.”

“I don’t,” he declared with more certainty this time. He mimicked her body language, crossing his arms and turning around so his

back was to her once again. They both let out of huff of air before the music changed over the speakers to the popular ‘Say Something’ and Killian couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Killian leaned his shoulder back slowly, waiting for his shoulder blade to hit hers.

“Do you love him, then?” The tension he suddenly felt from asking this question or maybe talking about love, he didn’t have to be touching her or even looking at her to feel the electricity between them. He felt her shake her head slightly, either in answer or in refusal to answer, he didn’t know. That sat in tension-filled silence until the door of the cafe opened once again and they both jerked their heads in that direction. To put it simply, the man at the door was dressed as a magician, and Killian had to stifle a laugh as the man looked around for his party. Emma’s hands were balled into fists, because if this was _the_ guy, she would just about die on the spot if Killian were here to witness it, mock the man and her until the end of his days. Why did she care so much about what Killian thought, though? After a beat, the magician found his friend across the cafe and passed by them without notice. 

“Too bad. Magicians are so good with their hands,” he whispered in her ear uncomfortably close, catching her off-guard as she felt the heat of his breath on her ear and she jumped. 

“Are you _still_ here?” she had daggers in her eyes once more to Killian’s delight. He enjoyed firing her up this way, bring out the fierceness in her. He got up and sat back down at her table once again, needing to look her in the eye when he asked her this. 

“Are you going to act this way with him? This irritated?” he was both teasing her and curious, considering he was, indeed, _him_. 

“I won’t, because he would never make me this unbel _ievably_ annoyed by just his _existence!_ Because he is nothing like you. He is kind and thoughtful and smart and supportive and just... an incredibly caring human being. You probably don’t have a caring bone in your body. You’re so preoccupied with exuding as much charm and bravado you possibly can that you wouldn’t even know what real emotions were if they slapped you in the face. You don’t understand the concept of doing nice things for others or doing _anything_ without a way for it to benefit you. Why be nice when you can be a charming asshole? Surely no one will notice I’m an emotionless shell of a human if I just flash a smile at them.” 

By the time Emma paused to take a breath, she noticed the dimple in his cheek had vanished and that twinkle in his eyes that made them a glow soft cerulean was no longer there either. After a moment of looking her over, perhaps reevaluating what he thought of her or questioning where such hostility from her came from, he pushed himself out of the chair and got up. A weak smile formed across his face as if the muscles he needed to use to smile had atrophied and he gave a faint wave with his hand to say goodbye. 

“I hope you have a lovely evening, Miss Swan.” He bowed his head and fixed his leather jacket so the collar was up covering his neck as he walked out of the cafe. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

_I don’t know if you remember, but last night, there was a cafe, and you were supposed to be there meeting me. Maybe it slipped your mind but your absence made me feel like a complete idiot. The night actually turned out to be a total disaster, so I hope you have a good reason for not showing up. You didn’t strike me as someone who would bail at the last minute. I guess I misjudged you._

_\--Your Friend_

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_Princess, I’m so deeply sorry about not being there…._

_s ~~omething happened with my boat.~~_ ~~~~

~~ _My friend’s apartment flooded_ _._ ~~

~~ _My cell phone died and I forgot the address._ ~~

~~ _I’m a cad_ ~~

~~ _I saw you and you’d never believe who I really am._ ~~

**_*Move to Trash*_ **

 

When she woke up, the only emails she had were junk or from work, none from thejollyroger. 

 

“Aren’t you late for work?” Ruby came out of her room to find Emma on the couch flipping through the array of morning shows on cable. 

“Called in sick,” she replied without taking her gaze off the screen. She wasn’t really watching anything intently, just had her eyes fixed on the TV as the images flashed across the screen and mindless dribble about the best farmers markets came out of the show hosts. 

“Because you were stood up?” Emma didn’t even have to look at Ruby to know that she was disappointed and likely had her hands on her hips with her head tilted to the side, “Emma, this isn’t like you.”

“I can’t face _him_ after being stood up.” Emma turned off the TV and pulled the blanket up to her chin, shimmying further down into the comforts of the couch. 

“Since when do you care what _he_ thinks? He’s just some jerk you have to work with. Just ignore him.” Ruby didn’t understand. Emma was sure if Ruby _met him_ she’d understand just how difficult it was to simply _ignore_ Killian Jones, especially when he has a tendency to constantly bug her and follow her around and sit on her desk. Emma’s response to Ruby was to cover her head in the blanket and close her eyes. 

Hours later someone was ringing her apartment, pressing the loud buzzer incessantly until Emma woke abruptly to the rude sound in a very confused state. She squinted into the sunlight that was shining through the living room windows and stumbled to the intercom. 

“Yeah?” She looked at her watch to see that it was after 1pm. 

“Swan, it’s me,” the familiar voice rang through her intercom as a shock to her system. _Why_ was Killian here? 

“Okay?’ Emma needed an explanation for his presence in her building. Most of the reason she didn’t go to work today was because she didn’t want to see him.

“Can I come up?” He sounded uncertain, which was good, because the last impression she wanted to give him was that she wanted him here. 

“I--I really don’t feel well, Serg.” Emma winced, hoping this was an adequate explanation for him not to come up. _Please don’t come up. Please go away._ After a pause, she heard nothing back from him and assumed he left. She retreated to the couch, shaking out the blanket before sitting down, when her doorbell rang. 

“Dammit!” she whispered to herself. Someone must have been coming or going as he was in the doorway and just let him in. She’d be having a chat with whoever that was about building security later. Regardless, she glanced at a mirror quickly before opening the door to find Killian standing there with a bouquet of flowers and a paper bag of what she assumed to be soup. Something about the blue button-up he was wearing was making his eyes sparkle and he had that unshaven disheveled look that would make anyone’s knees go a little weak at the sight of him. _Asshole_. 

“Serg. I’m really not--” he already started walking into her apartment, handing her the flowers and immediately finding her refrigerator to put the soup in, “not feeling well…” 

“I hope chicken noodle is alright. Wasn’t sure if you were vegetarian or not, but thought I’d seen you with a burger on more than one occasion,” he was going about her apartment like he had been there before, like he _lived_ there, really. 

“ _What_ are you doing here?” Emma’s mouth was hanging open as she watched him flit about her apartment before realizing the flowers in her arms. “Buttercups?”

“Princess Bride,” he shrugged and smiled shyly at her. He finally stopped moving about and stood in front of her, hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “I just came to see how you were. I was...after last night I wasn’t sure if you had a _really_ good date or…” his sentenced trailed off as he craned his neck to look around the apartment and she recognized that he really came here to see how her date went. _But why?_  

“Is he still here?” Killian whispered and raised his eyebrow at her. She nearly hit him with the flowers but opted to smack his arm with her free hand. 

Instead of answering his question, she busied herself with finding a vase for the flowers, filling it with water, and clipping the stems before placing them in the vase. She didn’t answer until the vase of flowers was covering her face while she searched for a surface to put them on,

“My date was a no-show,” she put the vase on the window sill by the couch and started folding the blanket that she left there, 

While she was distracted and avoiding eye contact with him, Killian pressed the send button on the email he had sitting in his drafts. At the sound of the email alert on her phone, Emma nearly leaped across the couch to look at what had been sent to her. 

He watched as her face changed from scrunched up and concerned to a wide brimming smile that he didn’t think he’d ever seen before. It was a privilege to see her real life response to one of his emails to her, after so many months of imagining what she must look like, how she felt when she received his emails. She had told him how his emails help her through the day, and visa versa, but to see her real life reaction was an entirely different experience. It made his heart ache that she thought he didn’t show up, and to see her smile now at his excuse was reassuring. 

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_Princess, nothing can excuse my absence last night. I have an explanation but I’m sure you will find it to be an inadequate cover for the damage caused to you as a result. I did, in fact, make an appearance at the cafe, but upon seeing you in the window, a man was holding a rose out to you  and I mistakenly assumed you two were involved, or he was an ex come to win you back. It sounds silly now to have fled for that reason, but he just seemed like one of those men that all women fall for, and I wouldn’t blame you if we were meeting under circumstances in which you were already involved with someone. Please, just be straight with me, were you and this man together? It doesn’t matter and it shouldn’t stop us from meeting as friends. I just wanted to know all the facts before we try to meet again so there are no surprises. I hope you can forgive me for acting so foolishly._

_your friend x_

 

“Good news, then?” he asked shyly, not wanting to interrupt her moment of enjoyment. She looked up at him like she had forgotten he was even here and her cheeks flushed as if caught in the act of something she shouldn’t be doing.

“Yes, I’m feeling much better, actually,” she was absolutely glowing that it made his smile widen in response. 

“I’ve never seen one email have such an effect on a person,” Killian mused, trying to milk the moment for all it was worth and sat down next to her on the couch as she looked the letter over again on her phone. 

“You know you ruined my date last night,” she added this point with a smile still, as if nothing could harsh her buzz right now, “I told you not to sit down at my table!” She hit him playfully in the arm with the back of her hand but continued smiling. “My date came to the cafe last night, saw you sitting with me, and thought we were together!” 

“He doesn’t sound like much of a man if he can’t handle a little competition.” It was not lost on Killian that he was speaking of competing with himself. 

“Please, you’re not competing for me,” she waved her hand to dismiss the thought of Killian being interested in her, “He just-- here, he said _‘Please, just be straight with me, were you and this man together? He just seemed like one of those men that all women fall for._ ’ Well he had _you_ pegged.” Emma elbowed him playfully and her good mood made him laugh. 

“He thought you were interested in _me_?” Killian pointed to himself and Emma tilted her head back on the couch and laughed at the idea.

“I don’t think he meant it like that. He’s sensitive and respectful, so he probably felt like he was intruding on something when he saw you at my table. You wouldn’t understand. You and he are _very_ different men,” she slapped her hand onto his leg and left it there for a moment before realizing what she was doing and promptly removed it. At this, Killian stood up from the couch and Emma thought he was finally leaving until she heard the kettle whistling. _When did he start the kettle?_

“Tea?” he shouted from the kitchen and Emma’s head felt a little fuzzy around the edges. The co-worker she hated was here taking care of her, even though she wasn’t sick and trying to avoid him, and she was actually alright with him being in her apartment, acting like he owned the place. 

“Corner cabinet. Surprise me,” Emma proceeded to pull the blanket over herself again and settle into the couch as if she were actually sick. Why not let someone take care of her for a change, even if it was just bringing her tea on a bad day. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, basking in the warm sunbeams that splayed sunlight across the couch, when suddenly the overwhelming scent of peppermint wafted into her nose and she opened her eyes to a steaming cup of tea held out to her by Killian Jones. 

After handing her the cup of tea, Killian made her scoot her feet over so he could sit on the couch again, leaning back into the cushions and  draping his arm across the couch. 

“Swan I know you called in sick so you wouldn’t have to see me today after what happened last night, but I’m not all bad, am I?”

“Oh, because you brought me flowers and made me tea, you thought all would be well between us?” Emma retracted her feet further from him and sat up on the couch. What _was_ his intention with the flowers and the niceness?

“I just thought...maybe we could be friends,” he raised his eyebrows hopefully towards Emma, who had also raised her eyebrows in speculation, “if that’s possible.”

“Are you even capable of having friends?” she muttered it into her tea, knowing full well he could hear her.

“I didn’t think it was possible to be your friend, but,” he shrugged his shoulders and met her eye meaningfully, “what can I say? Sometimes a guy just wants the impossible.” Emma immediately averted her eyes to study her tea very intently, because once he said those words, they hung in the air like a thick cloud between them just looping the phrase over and over again in her head. 

_Why me, though?_

They sat together in contemplative silence on either end of her couch, watching the sun dance between the trees, making shapes on the hardwood floor. 

“You’ve read _Princess Bride_?” Emma realized she had been staring at the buttercups on the window sill, wondering what made him choose something with such meaning to her. 

“Does that surprise you?” They met eyes again in a way that made it seem like he was looking inside of her, like he could see something more than what other people see and it made Emma want to look away immediately. It made her uncomfortable for people to know her, to pry into her and read her without meaning to let them in that far. She didn’t want him to know her this far past the surface. It gave him ammo, leverage, a way to hurt her. And everyone hurt her eventually. 

It took her a moment to realize he was holding out his hand to take her empty tea mug to wash up. 

"You know it's not gonna be this easy," she said over her shoulder as he headed to the kitchen. 

"What's that, Swan?"

"Being nice once doesn't equate to friendship," she was testing to see if he'd really turn a new leaf and stop being a pompous dick on more than one occasion before trusting him. 

"That's alright, Swan. I love a challenge." His back was turned to her as he washed the cups and when he turned around he flung the dish towel over one shoulder like a bar keep. 

"Alright then you should know you've overstayed your welcome, Sergeant."

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

“I can’t _believe_ you took credit for that find! All this nonsense about wanting to be friends when what you _really_ wanted was to undermine me!” Emma stormed up to the sergeant’s desk looking for a fight. 

“Swan, calm down,” Killian stood up from his desk and squared off with her, lifting his arms slightly in preparation in case he needed to deflect an errant blow to the head. He didn’t doubt she was capable, hell, _willing_ to knock him to the ground. 

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Tell my father that I’m the one who came up with that idea about Mills!” The desk was no longer separating them from each other as Emma had made her way around it and stood within spitting distance of him now. He could almost feel the heat pulsating off her, the rage pumping through her veins, and he desperately wanted to grab a hold of her, make her see that she’s overreacting and to just _breathe_ , but he knew that any sudden movement like that would likely cause her to hit him, or worse, knee him in the balls. 

“He came in right after you left tonight and asked about progress, and I simply told him what we came up with--”

“WE?!” she bellowed into his face not even a foot away. He could smell her perfume wafting towards him, coming off her in pleasant waves of vanilla and violets. She had stepped even closer to him with one foot forward and one back, as if she planned on bringing her fist around and straight into his jaw with the next step. He flinched.

“He _knows_ how smart you are, Swan, he _knows_ you’re the one who comes up with ideas like this, not me. Emma, he knows it was you, I wasn’t taking the credit, he was just so excited that he…” he gulped realizing the end of the sentence was not going to be reassuring to her at all and he made eye contact with her briefly before regretting it. 

“Do please continue sergeant,” she said through gritted teeth, jaw clamped shut in effort to stave off any more anger she was holding in. 

“Well, he told the police chief of our progress,” Killian finished with a flourish of his hand as if this were a small detail that was rather unimportant. 

“If my name was left out of that little _update_ to the police chief, I swear to you, Jones,” he cut off her threat, wanting to goad her on, seeing just how far she was willing to take it,

“What do you swear, Swan?” he quirked his eyebrow and stepped closer to her, their faces just inches away from each other so that the energy vibrating off of Emma was electrifying him into joining this argument with everything he had. He wanted to see what she was made of after all this talk and boldness. He wanted to see if she would follow through on her words, no matter how vicious.

“I swear I’ll get you thrown out of the Boston PD for good, and you won’t be able to get police work in all of New England once I’m done with you,” Emma said it like she meant it, like she was fully capable of wrecking his reputation as a detective, but he was too distractedly aroused by the way she said ‘once I’m done with you’ that his limbs started to tingle and his fingers itched to touch her. He licked his lips, letting his tongue play across his lower lip slowly, seeing if she’d notice in her current state of outrage. It was quick, but her eyes darted down at his lips for the smallest of moments and he knew she felt it, too. 

“Is that a promise?” his tongue flicked inside his mouth and he saw her watching it instead of his eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with anger and her chest was heaving from the high-strung emotions of the fight. She was like a cord wrapped so tightly it was about to snap, and he wanted to be the one to make it snap. 

“Do you think this is a joke?” her anger had subsided slightly as she continued to talk to his mouth instead of look him in the eyes. She clearly hadn’t realized she was staring. 

“No, you’re just cute when you’re mad, Swan,” he was so focused on her eyes, her mouth, the flush of red spreading across her chest, that he didn’t see her hand whipping across his face at lightning speed with a loud ‘smack!’ 

She looked so surprised that she hit him that she turned even redder, if it were possible, as the offending hand rested on her chest, not quite sure what to do with herself until she looked back at his lips. She felt heat bubbling low in her belly and faint warming sensation spreading through her body before her hand returned to the side of his face, gently this time, as she pulled herself towards him. She planted her lips on his softly at first, nipping apprehensively at his mouth until she inhaled sharply and began pulling at the collar of his shirt, fiercely kissing him for all he was worth and pushing her tongue against his, fighting for control. 

His shirt came over his head quickly, followed by a frenzy of clothes being pulled at with low growls in each other’s mouths at the struggle between flesh and garments that were creating barriers between them. She yanked his jeans down with his boxer briefs in one go, pushing him onto the desk before he pulled at the tight jeans she was wearing, getting them as far down to her ankles as he could before she simply straddled him on the desk. Shoving her panties aside, she sank down on him with a sigh of relief, sending a wave of pleasure through her, warming her body through to her extremities as she allowed her head to drop back and revel in the feeling of fullness he gave her. It had been a while since she’d done this.

He enveloped her nipple with his lips, using his tongue expertly to send sparks shooting through her in short bursts as she

 started moving over him. Their pace was frustratingly slow causing Killian to flip her onto her back on the desk before driving into her once more with a groan of pleasure from them both. 

“Fuck,” Emma breathed from below him, unable to understand how they came to be in this position so quickly, “fuck, I hate you.” She draped a hand over her face as if she had a horrible headache and scrunched her face up in regret already, that was, until Killian’s hand started searching between them and finding just the right spot to rub. Emma moaned deeply, and from what he could tell, in pleasure as his teeth scraped along the soft flesh of her neck, his other hand gripping her hip tightly. He quickened the pace, chasing after his own release, hoping that perhaps once they both came the tension between them would be gone and this spat between them solved, as if it were that easy. He knew it wasn’t. He could feel her tightening her legs and muscles around him, lifting herself off the desk for better leverage as he drove into her harder and faster. They were both panting, eyes closed, likely imagining someone else in order to find their release. Both their bodies arched towards one another in effort toward the same goal, twisting and tightening around each other until they hit their climax, pushing out the last bits of effort they had left to make the pleasure last as it washed over their bodies. 

He collapsed overtop of her, forehead resting on her shoulder as he came down from the high, still able to smell her perfume mixed with sex and sweat. He wanted to kiss her, to taste her skin, but he knew the moment of angry passion was over, so he inhaled the air around her one last time before getting up and retrieving his clothes. He kept his back turned to her, knowing she already hated herself for what they just did and wanting to give her some privacy to get her clothes back on. At the sound of her jeans zipping he turned around with his head hung low like a kicked puppy who knew they did something bad. 

Emma noticed his lingering look out of the corner of her eye and sighed as she fixed her hair. 

“Tell my dad who really thought of those new ideas with the case by tomorrow, or I will be sure you don’t work in this state ever again.” With a whip of her hair as she turned around, she bolted out of that police station as fast as one would flee a crime scene.

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

When she got home, she sank against her door and buried her head in her knees, replaying everything that happened and trying to figure out how on earth it could have ended with sex when she was so _mad_ at him. Her feelings were so conflicted that she had to turn to her computer. Surely someone besides Ruby could give her advice about this situation.

 

swanprincess: have you ever...been attracted to someone you hated? 

 

Her finger hovered over the the return key, questioning whether or not she wanted to even discuss this with him. They had never really delved into the territory of sex or relationships, not in a really grotesque way that Ruby often suggests. They’ve talked of lost loves, past relationships that damaged them and shaped them into who they are now, but they’ve never been buddies who give relationship advice to each other and she wasn’t sure if she was crossing a line here or not. Another part of her desperately wanted to know who he was, wanted to meet him and be attracted to _him_ not this...not Jones. She didn’t want to talk about some _other guy_ when he’s the one she _really_ wants to be with, whether she’s ready to admit that to him or not. All she knew was, if she talked about this with Ruby, she would have to tell her about the sex, and she absolutely could not recount that incident to anyone, ever.

Ruby happened to come home as her finger played over the enter key and the sudden sound of the door caused her to prematurely send the message to him. She immediately wanted her email service to install an undo button for chats, but he replied almost immediately.

 

**thejollyroger** : Is this person of the opposite sex?

 

He was online. She didn’t even know he was online, she had just been starting an email and somehow...They had never used the chat function on their emails, they usually texted if it was something short. Launching their conversation into an entirely different medium was rather new and exciting, like getting to know each other all over again, how they spoke and responded on this platform could be different from their emails, from their texts. Emma sat up in her chair and responded back.

 

swanprincess: obviously

**thejollyroger** : Just checking, princess. We’ve never discussed your position on the sexuality spectrum, so you never know

swanprincess: back to the point?

**thejollyroger** : Most of the people I’ve disliked are at my job, someone I’m competing against, and they’re usually men

swanprincess: and you don’t compete with women because you always lose, or…?

**thejollyroger** : You’re feisty today, love

swanprincess: please indulge me with a real answer

**thejollyroger** : I’ve been drawn to someone who’s challenged me in my daily life, yes

swanprincess: ???? is that english

**thejollyroger** : Hey you asked, I answered

 

“Ugh,” she pushed herself away from the keyboard and dropped her head back to stare at the ceiling for a minute before the ding of another incoming message went off.

 

**thejollyroger** : who’s the guy? the man from the cafe? or would you rather not to divulge this information

 

Emma’s stomach dropped at the question, as it would have done if anyone knew about her sleeping with Killian, no, fucking Killian. They didn’t sleep together, they weren’t even entirely horizontal when it happened. But the question coming from thejollyroger’ was all too much to handle. After the fact, while she was buttoning her pants and smoothing her hair, all she felt was guilt, like she had _cheated on him_. How can you cheat on someone you’ve never met? She tried to calm her shaking hands by typing, another joke to feign normalcy. 

 

swanprincess: you sound like my roommate 

**thejollyroger** : Is your roommate an attractive sailor, as well? I might get jealous now, princess

swanprincess: you’re not actually a sailor

**thejollyroger** : I have a boat, it sails, I sail it, thus making me a sailor, princess, please keep up

 

He was perfect, no less than if he could make her smile while she was having an internal crisis, laugh even. Then why haven’t they met yet? What’s keeping them from being together after all this? He’s funny and smart and worldly, he has a boat, they live in the same city now, _what was so hard about this?_ It was because she was terrified if things actually worked out with him, if he was actually someone as perfect in person as he is on paper. A knot started building in her throat, almost like she couldn’t breathe because something was pushing against her, blocking her. Her chest felt tight and she felt her eyes starting to sting, so she bit her lip, bunching her hands into fists to get a grip. 

“Emma? You home?” Ruby called from the living room for her and Emma could sense her need for support. She was going on another date with Viktor tonight and likely needed help picking out what to wear. 

 

swanprincess: i gotta go

 

She promptly shut her laptop, not waiting for a reply from him. She couldn’t bare to see him be nice to her and supportive when she just had sex with someone she hated. She sat up straight in her chair and took a few deep breaths, swiping her hands under her eyes to make sure no tears actually fell. She gripped her knees tightly, letting as much negative energy come out of her as she exhaled one last time before putting on a smile and getting up to help Ruby.


	3. (3)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma's grudge against Killian begins to wane as they run into each other on numerous occasions outside of work. Emma decides to give meeting thejollyroger another chance.

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

_Do you ever fear that, based on how little you’ve done in your life so far, that there’s no way you can ever achieve all the things you always wanted to do? Like if I haven’t even been out of the country by the age of let’s say 30-- (I am_ not _saying_ ** _I’m_** _thirty) then how on earth can I  plan to visit every continent by the time I die? When you’ve already_ ** _not_** _traveled outside my own country in 30 years of my life? Have you set your pace for life by now and wasted some of it by acting so slowly on the things you’ve always wanted to do? If I haven’t traveled by now, when will I ever? I know this is vague and you don’t have to answer. This is just something rhetorical I was thinking about. Just some work stuff is messing with my head._

_\--Your Friend_

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_Princess, I don’t know what’s bugging you at work and I know better than to ask :P but whatever it is that you feel like you can’t accomplish, whatever you think is holding you back, fuck it. Fuck them, fuck obstacles, because you can get over any of them, ALL of them. I may not know what you do for a living but that doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re strong-willed and successful in all your endeavors. You’ll get what you want, I promise. Just keep fighting._

_your friend x_

 

Thejollyroger’s note of encouragement wasn’t an empty promise of his either. He _did_ know her quite well, if not better than a lot of her friends, that when she went into work the next day to face Killian Jones, she was ready to fight. She absolutely dreaded going to work the next day, knowing she’d have to face Killian and his likely smug attractive face, but when she came in, there was no sign of him, not at his desk, not in the break room, and she let out a sigh of relief. Maybe he had a late shift again. Maybe she didn’t have to see him today after all. 

It wasn’t until her computer was booting up and she was glancing over the morning reports that a shadow fell across her desk and the familiar scent of spiced rum and male bravado washed over her. _Son of a bitch_. It took everything in her power not to look up and meet his eye, and twice as much energy to subdue the flush spreading across her cheeks. 

“Swan,” he greeted her, placing a cup of coffee on her desk with her name on it. He had gone out and specially ordered her favorite: hot chocolate with cinnamon and three shots of espresso. She looked at the cup for a moment, still not permitting herself to look at him, because he’d see the guilt in her face and that pull that she felt towards him no matter how much she tries to suppress it. Emma picked up the cup, bringing it an inch from her lips before pulling it away and dropping it into her trash can. 

“Not thirsty this morning, love? Or was there something else you wanted me to provide for you?” She didn’t even have to look at him to know his eyebrow was raised in a provocative attempt to piss her off, because he knows what buttons to push, but now was not the time to attempt to strangle him for making comments like that. 

“Did you talk to the captain?” Emma asked through gritted teeth, turning the page of the morning’s report, maintaining eye contact strictly on the paper and not him, not his lips, not his eyes, nothing. 

“Everything’s been squared away,” Killian cleared his throat, possibly unprepared for whatever reaction she was going to have to what he had to say next, “And because of your discovery, your fa-- the _captain_ would like us to continue working together. He thinks we make a great...team.” He was enunciating the Ts very specifically like it was particularly difficult to get the words out of his mouth. 

Emma felt the blood drain from her face at the realization that she’d have to continue spending a large chunk of time with this man she couldn’t even bear to look at. Not just spending time with but _working together_ on something very important to her. Her free hand that had dropped the coffee cup into the trash was now balling into a fist, because it was the only place Emma could healthily send this mass amount of negative energy at the moment. She’d have to go to the shooting range _soon_. 

Her pocket buzzed with a quick email from thejollyroger that read:

_knock em dead, princess. You’re stronger than anyone_

The message gave her that instant boost of confidence and alertness she needed to deal with the daily struggled that was speaking amiably to Killian Jones. Or at least speaking to him without punching him in the face. It took a lot of damn strength, alright.

“You know that last night..that was nothing. It’s not ever happening again. It was a mistake,” Emma said it quickly but it felt like saying out loud made it all real, made what they did actually part of both of them and was now out in the open. He put on a forced smile, clearly a little hurt that she would even suggest he had feelings for her because of what happened. 

“I just stopped by your desk to tell you Henry Mills was spotted in the North End,” Killian said to her without looking up from his phone. He frowned at it for a moment before putting it in his pocket and flashing a smile at Emma. 

“How’s that supposed to help us?” she didn’t have the patience to praise him for finding out this bit of information, because it was likely a dead end. 

“He’s got a new cell phone that we can trace?” Both his eyebrows were raised and his voice went up at the end of the sentence like he wasn’t sure the information he had was any good. _Good. At least somewhere deep down he’s knows he’s shit at his job._  

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

They had been sitting in their car on a stakeout, waiting for Henry Mills to appear at this location for 6 hours. Most of it had been spent in tensed silence or with minimal discussion about the case, about their theories or going over what they already knew, Emma giving him small details he might not remember from the case files, but none of it was friendly or personal. It was work and they only talked about work. There was still that tension between them, a sort of unspoken struggle that existed because Emma plainly did not respect him as a human being based on what she knew of him, tension from being forced to work with someone you don’t like. It was uncomfortable for both of them, but Killian had finally come up with a question that might get them talking companionably at least. He had been rehearsing questions and conversations in his head, trying to sort out which one would be best to start with, to try to get her to warm up to him a bit, and after being so apprehensive he finally turned to her and asked,

“Why’d you become a cop, Swan?”

“We’re not doing this, Jones,” Emma replied flatly. It felt like a punch in the gut. It’s certainly not one of the scenarios he had played out in his mind. 

“Alright, I’ll tell you why I became a cop,” he leaned his head back against the headrest of his seat and relaxed his shoulders. It was a well-rehearsed story as people often wondered how an Irishman had become a New York City detective. “My mum died when I was a baby, so when my da left us when I was just a wee lad, my brother, Liam ended up raising me. He was 7 years older than me, someone I always looked up to. He was the person I wanted to become when I grew up--”

“And he was a cop so you wanted to be a cop,” Emma tried to speed to the ending of his story, assuming he was just adding flourishes for no reason but to bore her to death. 

“He was in the Navy, actually, did three tours before busting his knee and going into private security back home. He was this incredible person, just...everyone wanted to be around him, men wanted to be him, women wanted to be _with_ him, and he just made you feel good about yourself like you could do anything,” Killian swallowed. His voice was going hoarse as his mouth went dry. He hadn’t talked like this about Liam in a long time and hadn’t planned on saying even this much to Emma about him until he just got wrapped up in the good memories of his brother. He heard Emma shift in her seat, noticing his long pause in the story, but he didn’t dare look at her. He swallowed once more with difficulty, trying to regain his composure for the rehearsed part of the story, the part he told everyone, the part that didn’t explain why it hurt so much that Liam’s gone. 

“So he was safe, he was home, back on land, he had a life after the navy, everything was going well, until one day just walking down the street he was shot,” Killian paused briefly when he heard Emma gasp ever so faintly, “in a drive-by shooting. One of the drug cartels paying a visit to some rival of theirs and my brother was caught in the middle just by walking down the sidewalk. It’s why I work in narcotics.” 

Killian felt his voice waiver slightly and he grabbed his water bottle from the cup holder, crushing the plastic in his fist as he gulped down some relief. He took a deep breath and stared off at the house they were surveilling. He had felt a shift in the tension between them change but he couldn’t tell if it was a step forward or backward for them as partners. Perhaps she thought it made him seem weak, becoming a cop for personal reasons or for a vendetta, as some way to avenge his brother’s death by catching every son of a bitch who could have harmed someone else’s family. Part of him felt idiotic for revealing that much about himself, but he had known her for so long, he knew such personal inner thoughts she’s had that he just felt comfortable talking about it, comfortable telling someone else about his past. It didn’t happen often. No one beyond himself, Will, and Milah knew that full story of who Liam was, really, until Emma. 

“I was framed for a jewelry heist by my scumbag ex-boyfriend,” Emma started speaking very quickly and suddenly that Killian turned to look at her expression. She was smiling but one of those self-deprecating smiles where you’re trying to gloss over something horrible and stupid so you just put on a happy face to give the illusion that you’re fine with it now. He could tell by her voice that she wasn’t fine with it and would likely hold a grudge against that guy for the rest of her life, “So I became a cop to ensure justice is served to the people who commit crimes.” Her eyes were fixed on the dashboard, refusing to look at him, and now he knew why. Trusting people got her into trouble and got her hurt. It’s what made it all the more miraculous that she trusted thejollyroger with her inner most thoughts and it made Killian realize how damaging him standing her up must have been for her. Thejollyroger was now just another person she thought she could trust, someone she may have trusted the _most_ , not showing up for her. 

Killian felt a deep pain in the pit of his stomach at this realization. He needed to tell her who he was, who thejollyroger is or he might lose her.

“Emma--”

An SUV had pulled around the corner towards the house they were watching that could’ve been their guy and the moment was gone. They were back to strictly business.

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

Emma walked out of her apartment building to find Killian there, leaning against his unmarked car parked out front. He was holding two cups of coffee and she wondered just how long he had been standing there for her to come out. 

“This is the third morning in a row, you should really read the street signs more carefully,” she grabbed one of the cups from him and got into the passenger’s seat trying to hide her content with having a chauffeur to work. 

“You know I tried selecting ‘work’ on the GPS and it just keeps taking me here,” he quipped, climbing into the car and steering them down the road. 

“You’re saying _I’m_ work?” 

“I would never dare imply such a thing when you have a hot beverage in your hand, Miss Swan.”

They drove in companionable silence for some time before he gained the courage to ask his next question,

“Hey, whatever happened to that blind date guy?” Killian was expecting backlash as a response, but Emma looked down at her blouse, the one she wasn’t supposed to wear to work, and smiled to herself. 

“I’m not sure, it’s like we keep missing each other, like the timing’s off...plus the case and just…” she trailed off in a defeated manner that suggested she wasn’t sure he would want to meet her again. 

“I promise I won’t ruin it this time,” Killian held both his hands up off the steering wheel and Emma smiled at him while rolling her eyes. “C’mon why wouldn’t you want to meet this guy you were raving about just a few weeks ago?” 

“I don’t know if I was raving about him--”

“Well you clearly care for him,” Killian had a feeling he was pushing it too far but the various facial reactions this line of questioning was causing was too entertaining for him to stop. Emma nodded her head slowly in agreement, looking a little skeptical as to why he seemed to care so much about her relationship with ‘the blind date guy.’

“DIdn’t you have a date that same night? Whatever happened to that woman?” A moment of panic struck Killian in the chest and he gripped the steering wheel in effort to not turn red at her question. He shook his head frowning,

“She just wasn’t who I expected,” which, actually, was an entirely accurate statement. 

“Oh, that’s too bad,” the flush spread across his cheeks at her saying this, hoping this meant she had developed some interest in him after all, “because you really need to stop hitting on the witnesses.”

“I haven’t done that all week!”

“I know, you’re getting better!” Emma replied with a wide smile, which he returned. Something about being around him, working with him, had gotten easier, but Emma couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was that had changed. The awkwardness of having slept together still hung in the air at times, during silences, or because of certain topics, but it wasn’t a problem anymore, really. He was actually being...nice and almost considerate.  

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

_I was thinking maybe we should give meeting another go. Now that you’re presumably settled in a bit more and we’ve come to an understanding that no other man besides you will show up at my table, maybe we can get it right this time?_

_\--Your Friend_

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_I’m thinking this is a great idea, princess. Right now I’m in the process of moving into my own place, so we made need to wait a bit before there’s time in my schedule._

_your friend x_

 

He was sitting at her desk when the email came in and he noticed the frown on her face at the contents of said email.

“Something wrong?” he didn’t know it was his email for sure that was causing her distressed look, so there was no harm in asking what was going on. They had been working closely on this case since he started at the precinct over two months ago and she had slowly warmed up to the idea of actually talking to him in full sentences rather than glares. Stakeouts and late hours at the office can have that effect. 

“No, it’s just something personal, nevermind,” she waved him off. 

Maybe they weren’t as friendly as he thought.

“Is it your blind date man?” He pretended to be looking at his phone as if he didn’t really care what was bothering her just to throw her off a bit. There are only so many times he could stand being accused of jealousy. In his periphery he noticed her look up at him with a face that asked how he knew that and he had to suppress a smile creeping up the corners of his lips. Emma quickly summarized their email exchange for Killian to interpret whatever this blind date man could be thinking. 

“Time in his schedule? Is he a senator or something?”

“He said he needs time to move...how long does it take to move one man’s belongings?”

“Maybe he’s moving a whole family’s belongings. It sounds like he’s married with kids or something.”

“One of my friends said the same thing,” Emma’s face screwed up in rejection of this idea, “He’s not married with kids. He’s not.”

“Have you asked him outright?”

“No, because he’s not married! He just came up from New York on his boat and now he’s crashing on a friend’s couch! He’s not married, I’m telling you,” Emma shook her head again, waving her hands to make the whole idea of her online friend being unavailable go away forever. 

“A _boat_? He’s got a boat?” Killian kicked the side of her chair with his foot, quite enjoying teasing her about her crush, especially since it was on him. She slapped his leg away and pretended to not hear him. “He sails a boat on his own. Does he make you call him captain?” Emma shook her head again with a rueful smile.

“I’m never telling you anything about my personal life again,” she shoved him again, this time in the arm, as if to get him off her desk. He was always sitting on her desk like that was his place in the office. 

“The captain and Emma Swan. Captain Emma Swan. It’s got a nice ring to it. Or you’d be...first mate? First mate Swan? Not sure about that one...you’ll have to ask him what your rank would be on his boat.” He was enjoying this all too much. 

“Yeah, I’ll ask him and then never tell you about our conversations or interactions ever again. Thanks for all the help. Can we get back to work now and maybe catch some drug kingpins please?” Emma put her phone away, cheeks red with embarrassment that she was so open with her partner in the first place, and started tapping her pen on the case files she was reading. Her face had returned to the stone faced detective facade she usually had up at work, but Killian didn’t regret this small moment of playfulness with her. Sometimes he could catch her in a good mood or find certain moments in which she didn’t entirely hate him, moments like this one where he could actually get her to smile or laugh for a brief second. These moments gave him hope that once he actually tells her who he is, that she wouldn’t completely reject him. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

to: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

_I know we’ve never really discussed our relationship statuses...stati? whatever the plural of status is, but based on your reaction from our attempted first meeting, I could swear you were uninvolved. My ever-supportive friends, however,  are convinced you’re married. You’re not married, are you?_

_\--Your Friend_

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_After this much time has passed, a scheduled meeting has passed, you’re_ **_just_ ** _asking this, princess? If you don’t want to meet again, that’s fine, but I beg you not use the pretense of my singlehood as an excuse._

_your friend x_

 

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“Ruby!” Elsa scolded Ruby for her language but also raised her eyebrows wanting to know the answer herself.

“I have no idea. It’s like he’s offended I even suggested it.” Emma was sharing a glass of wine with her friends on a Friday evening in attempts to catch up with everyone’s lives, and instead of going out, they opted for a night in where they could control the noise level and not get distracted by men. “This is all your fault,” Emma nodded at Elsa, who looked affronted by the accusation, “and Killian’s.” Emma muttered into her glass of wine, but the ever-perceptive Ruby caught what she said.

“You’re talking to your partner about this guy?” Ruby suddenly looked like an excited puppy at the news that he and Emma were getting along. Ruby had peered out the window one morning when he was outside and became instantly in favor of Emma getting into his pants, regardless of what a womanizing pig he was. Ruby said guys who are like that are only arrogant because they’re hiding their insecurities and afraid to look weak. Emma was too ashamed to tell her friends that she already had gotten into his pants.

“He just sort of figured it out based on how I was acting I guess. He _is_ a detective, you know, though I don’t want to give him too much credit...” Emma couldn’t explain why she decided to share personal information about herself with him, but she had become used to him being around all the time and therefore felt safe to confide in him about things, despite her disinterest in his opinion. Plus he really _had_ been able to read her and piece things together by himself. He wasn’t as useless of a sergeant as she thought he would be. 

++++++++++++++++

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It was one of those perfect fall days right before Thanksgiving when the brisk air was turning cold and all the leaves were brilliant shades of red and orange and all you wanted to do was see it and enjoy a warm cup of something while breathing in the crisp air. Emma was off this weekend and decided to spend it reading at a new cafe that opened up in her neighborhood. She had settled into one of their cushy armchairs with a cup of cocoa and cinnamon and let herself get lost in a fictional world for a while. After her second cocoa was drained and only crumbs of her cookie remained on the side table, she heard a tapping on the cafe’s front window. When she  looked up, she saw none other than Killian Jones scratching his head nervously on the other side of the glass. 

After a number of awkward arm gestures, Emma met him outside and started walking around the neighborhood with him. 

“What are you doing in this part of town?” 

“I saw a bakery around here last time I picked you up,” he stuff his hands in his pockets and searched around the street quickly, “but I can’t seem to find it now.” He seemed nervous and certainly more fidgety than she’s ever seen him. It was like he didn’t want to be seen with her but Emma couldn’t figure out where this attitude came from. 

“Ah yes the traveling bakery,” Killian whipped his head up giving her a dumbfounded look that made her want to laugh, “It moves to a new storefront every week.” Emma scrunched up her nose and smiled at him because he looked ever so lost and confused by this concept before he noticed the face she was making at him. His furrowed brow relaxed suddenly and his face smoothed out into a smile back at her and he nudged his shoulder against hers. 

“It’s on the corner here. It’s really small so people don’t usually notice it unless there’s a line outside,” they turned to see the little shop on the corner with a line of about twelve people along the sidewalk, “which there is, because if you don’t get here early, all the good stuff will be gone and you’ll be left with...baguettes.” They followed the line of people til they reached the end and Killian leaned against the wall while they waited.

“What’s wrong with baguettes?”

“Nothing, it’s just not a specialty item like the challah turtle filled with chocolate or the gruyere croissants,” Emma shrugged, suddenly feeling hungry even though she just had a pumpkin cookie. Killian pushed himself off the wall and raised his eyebrow at her,

“Ah, I see you like a challenge, too, Swan,” he licked his lips, making Emma wonder why he always did that when he was teasing her. 

“No, I just believe that you have to show up if you really want something, wake up early and stand in the rain for 20 minutes if you really want that..challah turtle,” though she wasn’t speaking entirely about pastries when saying this, she also didn’t want it to seem obvious that she found it important for people to fight for what they want in order to get it, and those who show up late aren’t going to be rewarded. She had a feeling, though, that he knew exactly what she was talking about, whether she said challah turtle or not. 

While they were waiting in line, Emma updated Killian on the latest email exchange between her and blind date guy, figuring she owed it to Killian for suggesting she ask the man if he was married.

“That’s not an answer.”

“He just called me out on even asking it. He was saying, basically, that if he had been married all this time, I would know. I would probably have the same answer if he asked me. He wouldn’t hide something like that from me.” 

“No he’s just hiding his name, his profession…” _his complete love and adoration for you._ Killian watched her carefully when she talked about ‘him,’ enjoying that look of yearning in her eyes and complete trust she seemed to have in him. It was fascinating to see this other side of her, see she was capable of not hating him. 

“Those things aren’t important,though. I know who he is. His name isn’t going to change that,” she sounded as if she was convincing herself of this as much as wanting to convince Killian. 

“I wonder if you’ll still think that once you meet him.” Emma smiled at him and tilted her head to the side, giving him a face of disbelief,

“Why, you know something I don’t know about this guy?” The pang of guilt was like a punch in the gut once more at the reminder of what he was keeping from her. But he swallowed hard and frowned at her, shaking his head.

“No, just...what if he’s fat? And bald? And short? A short fat bald man?” Emma burst out laughing at the silly way he suggested such a thing and he felt the ball of tension in his throat ease slightly.

“Just because you’re shallow doesn’t mean I am, Jones.”

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

 

from: [thejollyroger@gmail.com](mailto:thejollyroger@gmail.com) 

to: [swanprincess@gmail.com](mailto:swanprincess@gmail.com)

_How about next Saturday at the harbour? Slip 401. And before you start thinking my ship is one of those absurd yachts that millionaires only take on their trips down to Florida, it’s not. Mine is next to one of those, so you can’t miss it, and she’s called The Jolly Roger. It’s my last weekend out with her before storing her for winter. Say 3pm? It’s really happening this time, princess._

_your friend x_

 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

The following weekend Emma was filled with nervous energy and anticipation once again. Unable to sit still and having woken up early (from the anticipatory nervousness), she decided to go to the bakery around the corner. Maybe a good croissant and the smell of freshly baked bread would calm her nerves, even if it was just for a few minutes. 

Upon turning the corner, she saw Killian Jones, once again, standing in the small line to get into the tiny crowded bakery on the corner and her breath caught in her throat for a moment. She was just surprised to see him in her neighborhood again. She hadn’t expected to see him is all. That was the only reason her heart was now racing. 

HIs nose was buried in a paperback, brow furrowed in concentration over what he was reading that he didn’t even notice her walk up to him until she tapped him on the shoulder shyly. He looked up and his whole face broke into a warm inviting smile. 

“You’re here early,” she observed aloud as a sort of question of asking why he was here. 

“I wanted to make sure I’d get what I wanted,” his smile brightened as she noted the dimple in his cheek and how his eyes were greener in reflection of the morning sun. 

Once they had purchased their array of baked goods, they settled on the bench outside to enjoy and compare each other’s pastries, trying to determine which was their favorite. 

“Why Swan? What happened to Nolan?” 

“Swan’s my mom’s maiden name. I just didn’t want people thinking I got places in my career because of who my father was,” Emma shrugged and continued nibbling on a molasses cookie. 

“ _Isn’t_ he the only reason you got where you are in your career?” Killian cocked his head to the side and smiled slyly. Emma’s eyes reduced to slits as she glared at him.

“See, this,”  she pointed to him, drawing a circle in the air around his face, “this is why I never liked you.” Killian smiled widely at her, beaming with pride at his abilities to annoy her.

“But you _love_ me now, Swan.” He meant love in a friendly way, not romantic love, and his stomach instantly lurched after he heard himself suggest such a thing and hoped she knew what he meant. 

“I _tolerate_ you,” Emma clarified, throwing a small crumb at him before changing the subject to the reason she was eating cookies at 7am. 

“So today? This afternoon?” She had told him about her date, providing him this information only so he wouldn’t show up and crash it accidentally again.

“You know, with how small this city is, if we keep bumping into each other, maybe you’ve seen him before?” Killian asked, gradually trying to turn the conversation towards the idea of the mystery man being him without revealing anything. 

“I know I could have arrested him before and just never knew,” Emma joked.

“Arrested, well I meant you could’ve seen him on the T or something, but if you think he’s managed to get arrested in the short amount of time that he’s lived here, then I’m not so sure I want you meeting him,” Killian broke off a piece of one of cookies they were sharing. 

“Yeah I’ll let you know if I need backup, Serg.” Emma scoffed at him, momentarily doubting the meeting once more in the back of her head. “But I could’ve seen him on the T…” she popped another piece of pastry in her mouth and chewed contemplatively. 

“He could _live_ near you, he could come to this bakery, he could be in line for the bakery _right now_ ,” Killian had lowered his voice to a whispered as they both looked over the line of people queued against the outside wall of the bakery, sizing them up as her possible mystery man. 

“He could be one of the bakers, one of the pastry chefs,” Killian suggested later, once they had finished the last crumbs of their items and were getting up to leave. 

“Oh stop, I’m finding out in a few hours,” Emma was tired of the suggestions, tired of trying to guess, when she would know for sure very soon. 

“Meeting this perfect man for you, a man you’re certain you’ll love regardless of his name or job or what he looks like,”

“What are you, narrating my life now?” She side-eyed him, hitting his arm lightly with the back of her hand to get him to stop making her so nervous about this, stop building up this guy in her head. She so didn’t want to be disappointed, not after all this time and after everything they’d talked to each other about. She couldn’t stand it if things didn’t turn out well. 

They came to a stop outside her front stoop and he leaned against the banister of her front steps.

“So if names and professions don’t matter…” Killian took a huff of breath before continuing. His heart rate had quickened as he gathered the courage to say what he was going to say, ask the bold question, “and if I...never took your job...what if it was me who met you at the cafe?” Emma’s head sharply turned upward to look him in the eye. She didn’t look panicked so much as...awestruck at his suggestion. “If I had just...seen you waiting there and walked up to talk to you... “ His voice was getting thick and he swallowed hard, looking at her without a sliver of falseness in what he said, “I would have asked for your number--”

“Of course you would’ve! You would hit on me and--” Killian’s hand came up to brush the hair off her shoulder and Emma stopped talking abruptly, observing the gentle movement of his hand on her shoulder, making the smallest but still intimate gesture of brushing the hair out of her face. 

“Can I just ask you, Swan,” he took a small step toward her and he noticed her sway towards him, “if you can forgive this guy for standing you up, can’t you forgive me for the small indiscretion of...taking your job?” 

 _and my biggest case I’ve been working on for years, and my donut, and my desk chair, and--_ her impulse to follow up with this list was thwarted by her heart pounding in her ears and of that buzzing feeling she had when she was around him that drove her crazy. She opened her mouth without anything to say and the wind blew of a gust of wind against her face, causing a tear to fall down her cheek. His hand came up to gently brush the tear off her cheek with his knuckles, looking at her like she gave him the world and she couldn’t help but want run from this feeling. 

“Emma…” he started, his voice low and quiet like he was whispering a secret in her ear.

“I’m not--” Emma tried to push his hand away, not wanting to be this close to him, not wanting to _want_ to be this close to him, allowing these small intimate gestures between them, “I have to go, Killian.” She looked him in the eye, tears stinging her eyes and for a moment neither of them moved. They just stood there communicating silently with their eyes, because to say anything out loud would be too difficult. Before he could manage the courage to respond, she bolted up the steps of her building and searched for her keys in her purse. When she found them, she made the mistake of glancing over her shoulder to him standing at the bottom of the steps looking up at her, brilliant blue eyes blazing with so much raw emotion she couldn’t handle it. She rammed the keys into the keyhole and rushed inside, running up the stairwell to her apartment before she could look back again. 

++++++++++++++++

++++++++++++++++

By the afternoon she had soaked in the tub, took a nap, and read over her emails between her and thejollyroger all the way back to when they first started talking those many years ago. She wasn’t usually this nervous about a date, but she just couldn’t stop thinking and wondering. The mystery of it all was really getting to her. She was also doing everything in her power not to think about what Killian had said to her that morning. 

Dressed in jeans and a sweater, she got to the harbor at ten til 3. She figured it might take a while to find wherever slip 401 was. The movement of the docks under her feet made her uneasy, but the constant sound of the water splashing against the wood calmed her as she made her way down the dock. It was windy but not biting cold like it was in the winter. The warm of autumn still remained in the salty air that blew against her face. 

The slips were organized in long columns, requiring her to walk down until she found the right column and then having to go much further past dozens of boats in order to find the number she was looking for. Every time she saw an obnoxiously large yacht, she thought she had found _The Jolly Roger_ ’s neighbor and her heart would skip, only to find a number in the two or three hundreds and far away from her goal. She very quickly started passing rows and rows of yachts until there was a break in the staggering height of the larger boats to a smaller sailboat (still 40 ft. but not as high as the multimillion-dollar yachts). Emma ran past the yacht, looking for the name on the sailboat when she finally saw _The Jolly Roger_ painted in red script on the back of it and it felt like her heart had stopped. 

 _This is it_. She readied herself, walking the length of the boat slowly to admire it’s clean lines and craftsmanship, not quite ready to look up to its deck for the captain. Once she reached the gangway she stopped and balled her hands into fists quickly before smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in her jeans and sweater. She took a deep breath and looked up, finding familiar cerulean eyes staring hopefully back at her and her heart caught in her throat. 

 _No_.

The same eyes that had looked so pained this morning when she ran from the all too real feelings she had started to feel for him. 

 _It can’t be_.

She tried to gasp and it came out as a hiccup as she became overwhelmed by the truth of who thejollyroger turned out to be. 

_But he’s-- I’ve told him-- I was so--_

His raven black hair was ruffling in the wind as he made his way to the gangplank to hold out his hand to her. 

**_How_ ** _is it him? It’s_ **_him_ ** _._

It’s him. It suddenly made perfect sense. 

She took his hand, grasping it in hopes of him steadying her as she felt her her chin wobble slightly. 

“Welcome aboard _The Jolly Roger_ , Swan,” Killian’s Irish lilt saying the name of his ship was like coming home, like she had heard the name spoken a thousand times, but him saying it made everything in her life make sense. 

“Son of a bitch,” she whispered under her breath as she stepped down onto the deck, Killian’s hand holding her elbow until she regained her balance. She lifted her hand to hit him lightly in the chest for keeping this from her, but instead she simply rested it against his heart and leaned into him, silently communicating to him everything she wanted to say just by looking into his eyes. He had an apprehensive smile on his face but he was still so sure as she looked at him. He nodded and smiled wider, telling her this wasn't a joke, Killian Jones and thejollyroger were one in the same. 

“I’m trying not to ruin this for you by speaking, but Swan you’ve gotta say something. Are you disappointed?”

“No, I just hate that you’ve known so much longer than I have! How could you keep this from me?” Her other hand came against his chest in the same way, going to hit him but deciding to rest against him instead, just wanting to feel his solidity under her hands. 

“How was I supposed to explain I wasn’t standing you up at the cafe?” He tilted his head, smiling at her and letting out a nervous chuckle, nervous that he had already messed things up. 

“I’ve been wanting this for so long,” she whispered as her hands came around his neck, fingers playing idly with the hair at the base of his neck, sending a shiver down Killian’s spine. 

“I’m here now, princess.” He leaned forward, bending his head to fit his mouth over hers, reveling in the feeling of her lips against his in that slow exploratory way of a first kiss with someone you really like, wanting to know everything about them, touch every inch of them. The rest of the world around them didn’t exist, it was just them in this moment and they were all that mattered. They could have been kissing for minutes or days and they wouldn’t care. When they finally broke apart, Emma bit her now swollen lip shyly. 

“Call me that again,” her voice was thick with lust and pupils dilated with passion. He brought a calloused hand up to brush the hair out of her face and lean in so his lips were against her ear. 

“Princess,” he growled in this low gravelly voice that made heat pulsate between her legs, and as he kissed down her neck, he whispered ‘princess’ after each wet kiss on her skin until his lips returned to hers. 

“Would you like the take the helm?” He really had been asking if she wanted to steer the boat, but she clearly had other ideas besides sailing right now.

“Maybe we should go below deck, sailor.” Emma leaned back into his lips but Killian stopped just before their lips met.

“Captain, love. I’m not just any old sailor,” he clarified, making her laugh at how serious he was about his title out on the open seas.

“I thought I was the captain,” she somehow made this sound so sultry and seductive that he forgot what they were even talking about for a brief second and all he could think of was having her in his bed for a good long time.

“You’re right, love, Captain Swan has a much better ring to it,” he agreed, leading her down the steps to go below deck of _The Jolly Roger._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third and final part. Thank you so much for remaining interested in this little story and responding so positively to it!! I really hope you like this last bit of it. Also points to anyone who knows what bakery I'm talking about :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoy and please leave comments and kudos if you did!! I worked really hard on this story so feedback is very much appreciated :)


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